Tax Purposes
by Sluie92
Summary: A short fic to celebrate the legalisation of gay marriage in America.


"I can't believe she didn't show," says Charlie, and she's three parts angry to one part upset. "We've had this agreement for YEARS - the day gay marriage is legal we go out to international waters and get hitched for tax purposes! It was a flawless plan!"

There's general upset murmuring from those that are gathered, and Charlie's friends begin passing around the alcohol, their buzz from the day's merriment in need of a top-up. The crowd is adorned in a ridiculous amount of rainbows, as is the borrowed yacht .

"I even dusted off this dress, and I look slammin' in it," adds Charlie, making an exaggerated sad face at Dean.

"Yes you do!" says Dean, taking a swig from a bottle of strawberry vodka, then passing it to Cas, who does the same. "It's a damn shame."

"Well, at least we can eat the cake," says Sam.

"It won't be the same without the gay wedding," says Charlie.

"Well hey, there's plenty of gays here… Who wants to get married?" he yells.

"I'm already married!" says a man with blue hair. "Go Vermont!"

"I'm married to him!" says a taller man, and they kiss.

"We're straight! My girlfriend's in Hawaii! I don't wanna!" sound off another few of Charlie's friends.

"So nobody wants to get married today?" says Dean, and he takes another drink of vodka as his turn comes around again. Charlie's sad eyes bore into him.

"We could get married, Dean," says a deep voice. "For tax purposes."

"I'm not gay, Cas," says Dean. Charlie and Sam share a look behind his back.

"I'm an angel. Technically I'm genderless. I just inhabit a male vessel," says Cas, matter-of-factly.

"Well then it's not a gay marriage!" says Dean.

"Good enough for me!" squeals Charlie, beaming. "Do it!"

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" chant the crowd.

"Okay, okay, okay!" grins Dean, eventually. "Fine. Cas, wanna get hitched?" he slurs slightly, and laughs nervously.

"Yes," says Cas. His voice is gravelly, but steady.

"Pedro, hit the engines!" yells Charlie, and they set out to sea.

When the coastline twinkles in the distance and the setting sun paints the sky in pastels, Charlie and Sam usher Cas and Dean to the middle of the boat, where there's a colourful arch set up. Pedro, ship's Captain, stands ready.

"So, you guys got any vows?" he asks.

"Uh…" says Dean.

"Vows! Vows! Vows!" chant the crowd.

"I'll go first," says Cas, and everyone falls silent.

"Dean, you… You are the Righteous Man, and I firmly believe that you deserve that title. You have changed my life. I have lived more since I pulled you from the pit than I ever did in the millennia before that. I may have lost my faith, but I will always have faith in you. I will always protect you and I will be by your side as long as you will have me. This I vow."

There is a long silence, until Dean clears his throat. His eyes are a little misty, though he would deny it tooth and nail if anyone pointed it out.

"Woah, jeez, Cas," he says quietly. "I was just gonna say something about always sharing my pie with you." There's scattered laughter.

"Um. Oh man, I am not prepared. I dunno. I guess… I guess you've changed my life too, buddy. You've saved it more times than I can count. You're my best friend, and my brother… and it'll be pretty sweet to have you as my husband. For tax purposes," he adds, with a nervous chuckle.

"With the power invested in me, yadda yadda yadda," says the captain, "you guys are totally hitched!"

The crowd erupts. Dean grins lopsidedly at Cas. Cas beams at Dean.

"Oh, and you guys can totally kiss now!" adds Pedro.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" chant the ever-demanding crowd.

Dean shuffles towards Cas. Cas shuffles towards Dean. Their cheeks are pink from the alcohol, and the cold, and the moment.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Dean puts a hand on the small of Cas' back. Cas can smell Dean's strawberry-laced breath. Dean can see nothing but blue. Cas' eyes are closed. Their lips are in inch apart.

Dean closes the gap and suddenly everything else becomes so much background nose. All they know is each other - the taste of their lips, one alcoholic, one otherworldly. The soft fabric of Dean's shirt beneath Cas' fingers, the rough stubble of Cas' cheek beneath Dean's. Dean's fingers caress their way up Cas' neck to tangle in his hair. He cups a hand around his head and presses him closer, as if Cas is the air he breathes. Cas makes a small, unfathomable noise.

Then it's over and everyone is cheering.

"Congrats, dudes!" says the captain.

"Tax purposes my pasty white ass," mutters Charlie. Sam grins.


End file.
